


Stray

by ministryofsillywalks



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Pre-Zombie Apocalypse, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-07 10:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17364275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ministryofsillywalks/pseuds/ministryofsillywalks
Summary: A backstory for Negan, one which I hope lends more weight to his character. There were things that happened before, people he met and grew to love, that created the murderous monster and leader of the Saviors. But his motivations were anything but malicious. Negan/OC. (be advised, this story does not paint Lucille in a pretty light)





	1. Cheap Grin

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings! This story is the result of how I felt after reading the canon backstory that was written in the graphic novel (Here's Negan). It just didn't give his character enough weight, in my opinion, and I felt like it was too generic and easy of a backstory, so I thought I'd try to come up with my own and maybe twist the perceptions of his character a bit. He's my favorite and I wanted more for him (ugly cries). I did what I could to tie bits and pieces of the backstory into the current season of the show, but I wrote a lot of this before he was taken prisoner. I am gonna write through to the show events and then divulge from canon at some point, I'm just not sure where yet. But there will be zombies and blood and bad dudes with guns.
> 
> I hope I can do his character justice. Read, comment, enjoy!

**Richmond, Virginia - August 2009**

_Goddammit, it's hot as balls out here,_ he thought as he watched the schlumpy man inspect the car's paint job. He didn't look impressed.  _Well, damn, Peters, if you wanted shine why did you come to a used car lot?_

"You won't find a better deal, my friend," he said before Peters could ask to look under the hood. "I can hold it for the day but I can't promise it'll still be here tomorrow. This model's one of our top sellers."

"I don't know," Peters replied, scratching his chin. "It's a bit lackluster for that price. I might shop around a bit more, check out some other places."

_You're not gettin' away that easy._ "This is one of the safest cars you could drive," he explained. "You said you have a kid?"

"Kids. Yes."

"Well, this might not be the flashiest car, but it'll protect you in a wreck," he said.  _Play to the heart, not the head._ "Brand new airbags installed last month. Highest safety rating you could get."

Peters didn't look convinced. He just stared at the car some more, probably trying to figure out how the ball and chain might react.

"Tell you what. You take this beauty right here, I'll knock ten percent off the price and throw in a free wash and wax, how's that sound?"

"Ten percent, huh?" Peters said with a slow nod that said  _I'm fake considering so you think you have the upper hand._

"Yessir, well within your budget."

"I mean, car washes aren't really that expensive, but it's a nice thought..." He gave the car a dissatisfied side-eye. "Twenty percent and I'll take it."  _Theeeere it is._

"Fifteen and a gas card," he countered. "Take the kids on a few adventures."

Peters rested his hands on his hips, looked down at the car, chewed on his lip.

_Nice cargo shorts, buddy._

"Alright," he finally said. "I'll take it."

"Fantastic!" They shook hands, and he hit Peters with his signature salesman grin. This was so easy.

* * *

The numbers on the screen shifted in and out of focus as his fingers tapped rapidly across the keyboard. The tiny office was stifling, so his jacket hung forgotten on the back of his rickety old swivel chair and his shirtsleeves were scrunched up to his elbows. The more numbers he entered into the spreadsheet, the harder his eyes tried to stare through the screen instead of at it. He was in a miserable trance, set on by the absolute tediousness of updating the budget sheet. The lot outside had been empty since Peters had left in his new old sedan three hours ago. The sun was now directly overhead, beating down on the metal roofs and keeping potential shoppers holed up in their air conditioned homes instead of out there spending their money.

The sudden grating ring of his desk phone startled him, snapping him out of his stupor. He picked up the handset and held the damned thing to his ear.

"Al's Preowned, this is Jason, how can I be of service to you today?" he chirped, feigning total delight at answering a phone.

"Hi, are you guys open today?" said a female voice at the other end.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Oh, great," the voice said. "I was hoping to find a cheap family car that won't make me cry if my toddlers destroy the interior."

"Well, why don't you stop by and we'll take a look at our selection?" he laughed. "Safest minivans you'll find. We have them double inspected for your comfort and security."

There was some sort of commotion on the other end and Jason heard her mutter to herself, "Jesus fucking Christ," then yell, "Michael, put that down!"

"We're open seven days a week if tomorrow works better for you," he offered.

"You know what, I'll just come by tomorrow afternoon while the brats are at daycare, then. Thank you for being useful and patient, Jason," she said in a tone that seethed with sarcasm directed at someone else. Lazy husband, maybe.

"Tomorrow afternoon sounds great. I'll see you then."

When he hung up he took a moment to revel in the fact that he'd never had children of his own to disrupt his peace and quiet. No... Just a shrill wife...

"Mickey, get in here!" he called, forcing his thoughts back to his job. A ginger in his early twenties wearing a t-shirt that was way too big for him poked his head in the doorway.

"Sup, boss?" he asked.

"I need you to find me three minivans with the least mileage that have all the seatbelts attached," Jason said.

"You got it," Mickey replied, and hopped back out of the doorway.

"And get me the VIN numbers!" Jason called after him.

"You got it!" came Mickey's distant reply.

Jason turned back to his screen and was barely back to typing when his cell phone buzzed loudly on the desk beside him. He picked it up and glanced at the caller ID. Lucy. He closed his eyes, prayed for strength, and answered.

"Hi, honey!" The delighted salesman voice was his only useful tool right now.

"Are you coming home any time soon?" the high-pitched voice of his beloved demanded. He gritted his teeth.

"I'm just about wrapping up, I'll be home soon," he replied.

"Okay, well hurry up, I'm starving," she said.

"Okay, bye bye." He flipped the phone shut and tossed it on the desk. Leaning back in his chair, he glanced at the clock on the wall. Five o'clock on the dot. The woman had zero patience.

The drive home was slow and traffic-y. Typical for a Friday evening. He stared unenthused at the car in front of him. He rolled forward an inch, a foot, then touched the brakes again. He let his head fall back against the headrest. At least he was alone and not at home.

When he finally made it through his front door, he dropped his bag against the wall and hung up his jacket. The place was nice, but not overly wealthy, and it had the look and feel of a neat freak's abode after a cleaning frenzy.

Dinner was ready and waiting. Lucy taking it upon herself to cook a meal for both of them was a rare occasion. She must have really been starving. They sat and ate in silence. She took his hand and held it while she sipped her water. Maybe she was in a good mood tonight, despite having to wait ages for her husband so she could eat.

"Jason," she said.

"Yes, dear," he answered.

"You haven't been using the lotion I bought you."

"What?"

She lifted up his hand. "Your skin is crusty," she bit, and let go, letting his hand fall back to the table. "Why do I even bother if you're not gonna use it?"

"I'll put some on tonight," he replied. There was really no use in arguing with her. He'd learned that the hard way over the years.

"You better," she said, and stood with her plate. "Don't even think about touching me with those hands tonight," she added before disappearing to the kitchen, leaving him alone at the table. He exhaled, frustrated, and just stared at his plate.


	2. Speed

The minivan had been an easy sale. A desperate mother with too much on her hands usually didn't ask many questions, but Jason still did her the courtesy of making sure she took the safest model, for the sake of the little ones.

He checked himself out in the window reflection of one of the other vans, adjusting his collar and smoothing a thick eyebrow. His tall frame caused him to have to stoop a little to see himself. He liked to think his height, paired with his smooth-talking deep voice, made him a little more intimidating so customers were less likely to argue with him over prices and whatnot. Closing a sale always gave him a sense of confident satisfaction, regardless of how quick and easy. He had a sneaking suspicion that today might actually turn out to be a good day, something that had become rarer over time, though he tried his damnedest to make his work worthwhile.

He caught sight of Mickey approaching behind him in the window.

"Hey, boss?" Mickey sounded concerned, and Jason had to force himself not to roll his eyes at the potential change of luck. "We got anything with manual transmission?"

Jason straightened up and turned to face his employee. "Probably," he said flatly. "You check the inventory?"

"Uh..." Mickey stammered, trying to avoid eye contact.

"You have been updating it, haven't you?" Jason asked, keeping his patience in check. This wasn't that big of a deal, and making it one would ruin his post-sale high.

"I mean, yeah, but...not for a few days," Mickey replied. "I was gonna get caught up today, swear, but this girl really wants a manual and I don't know what to tell her."

"I'll take care of it," Jason said. "Go do your updates."

When Jason entered the reception area, the young lady in question was waiting at the front desk. She was lazily dressed in a loose black t-shirt and jeans, but it was still obvious she took care of herself, like a noble dressing as a peasant for the day. She smiled as he approached, and held out her hand.

"Hi, Megan Summers, how are you?" she introduced herself, her face bright and her tone never betraying the fact that she'd been kept waiting. Jason reached out and shook her hand.

"Jason Adams," he replied. "I hear you're looking for an automobile with manual transmission, is that right?"

"It is," she said with a nod. "Silver Civic. 2003. I'm pretty sure you have it here." Jason had been expecting to have to make the whole salesman pitch over two or three options, or however many manuals they had. He wasn't sure he'd really be able to upsell this girl.

"As a matter of fact, I know exactly where to find it. Just came in yesterday. Right this way."

He led her out the door and into the lot where the sun was once again beating down and superheating the asphalt.

"That's some stroke of luck, us havin' exactly the car you want," Jason said as they made their way down an aisle of sedans that seemed to have lost their luster.

"Well, I know the guy you bought it from," Megan replied.

"Oh, yeah?" Jason said. "He seemed kinda eager to get rid of it."

Megan chuckled. "Yeah, I'll bet he was," she said bitterly. Jason recalled the urgency with which the car's previous owner had tried to drop it off. He'd almost left without his payment.

"We might have to hold it for a few days for the paperwork seeing as it's still technically under his name, but if you're willin' to wait I'll reserve it for you," Jason offered.

"That's not a problem," Megan replied.

They came to a stop in front of the little silver car she'd come for.

"Here it is," Jason said. Megan stepped closer to it to examine the bottom of the windshield where the VIN number had evidently been scratched off.

"Yep, that's the one," she said.

"You wanna give it a test drive?" Jason asked.

Megan bit her lip, considering. Then, as if some brilliant idea had dawned on her, she smiled mischievously at Jason.

"Promise me you're not a backseat driver," she said.

"Cross my heart," Jason replied, though somewhat hesitantly as he tried to imagine what would have led her to ask that.

By the time Jason had walked around to the passenger side door and gotten in, Megan had already found the key in the cup holder and was revving up the engine. Jason barely had a moment to buckle his seatbelt before Megan shifted it into drive and took off with screeching tires.

They sped along the semi-crowded roads, weaving in and out of traffic. Jason was tempted to tell her to slow the fuck down but something about the look of intense focus on her face told him he should probably keep his mouth shut or risk distracting her and causing a fatal collision. Besides, he was actually finding himself trying to resist a laugh. This was the most fun he'd had in years. Maybe it was the swift movements of the car, or maybe it was the sheer adrenaline pumping through his chest, but regardless, he was oddly okay with this. She seemed to be in complete control of the speeding car, shifting gears seamlessly, finessing the wheel like it was an extension of her arm. He didn't dare look at the speedometer for fear of triggering a heart attack, and instead forced his gaze back out the windshield.

He noticed a black and white car parked up ahead, and as they approached, he realized it was a police cruiser. He looked at Megan again, and to his surprise, she was smiling that same mischievous smile. They zoomed past the police car, and almost immediately it turned on its lights and took off after them, siren blaring.

"Oh, shit!" Jason exclaimed, watching the flashing red and blue in the dusty side mirror. He turned to look out the back window, and just as the mirror had warned, their pursuers were much closer than they'd appeared.

"Come on, come on," Megan muttered under her breath, shooting glances at the rear view mirror and easing off the gas. She drove intentionally too close to a few parked cars, knocking off their mirrors and leaving a few scratches. What the hell was she doing? The police car was practically riding their back bumper, and yet part of him wanted to see what her intentions were in this situation, so he continued to remain silent. After all, what did he really have to lose?

As they approached a busy intersection, Jason realized Megan had no intention of slowing down, even though the light was red. Instead, she floored it and swerved into the right lane, drifting around the corner and barely missing the cross traffic. As they continued weaving through the other cars, they were gaining more and more distance from the cops with each maneuver.

Several blocks later, Megan looked in the mirror again, then over her shoulder, then said triumphantly, "Lost 'em!"

"Yeah, better hope so!" Jason returned incredulously.

Megan slowed the car back down, moving with traffic to blend in. She looked over at him, amused.

"Sorry I almost made you shit your pants," she said. "I honestly wasn't sure I believed you when you said you weren't a backseat driver."

"No, no, I'm good," Jason replied, trying his best to sound calm, though the white-knuckle grip he had on the handle over the window might have betrayed him.

"Are you?" Megan asked, laughing.

_Definitely not._ "Definitely."

"You know, for a used car salesman, you're a terrible liar," she teased.

"I'm an excellent salesman and an excellent liar," Jason replied, his grip on the handle relaxing as Megan started using the brake pedal more.

They pulled back into the lot as if nothing completely insane had just happened.

"I think I'll pass," Megan said once they'd stepped out, and handed Jason the key. "Change the plates and sell it cheap for cash. No paperwork." Who the hell was this girl?...

Jason nodded slowly. "You read my mind."

"And again, sorry if I scared you," she added, looking a little guilty.

"Don't be," he replied. "To be perfectly honest, I kinda needed that. Haven't had that much fun in a  _while_." He could feel Megan watching him closely as he spoke. Maybe he shouldn't have shared so much.

"Well, then, I'm glad I could be of service," she said, her tone audibly softer than it had been before.

"You're welcome any time," Jason said with a genuine smile, not the perfectly practiced salesman grin he'd become so good at. She smiled in return and held out her hand.

"Thanks, Jason," she said.

They shook hands, and she turned for the door, but she was barely halfway there when she stopped in her tracks, hesitated a moment, and turned back to him.

"Hey listen," she said, going back over to him. "I'm racing tonight. Two AM at Lincoln and Hoss behind the warehouse. I'll get you the VIP treatment as a thank you for putting up with me. Plus, more fun."

"Oh, you do that professionally, huh?" Jason joked. He wasn't the least bit surprised.

"More or less," Megan said.

"Well, look," Jason continued. "I'd love to, but it's probably not a good idea. Wife'll ask questions."

Megan shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'll have all the fun," she chirped.

"Thanks, anyway. Break a leg," he added.

"Thanks," she replied, smiling.

And as Jason watched her walk away a second time, part of him regretted mentioning Lucy, and he couldn't quite figure out why.


	3. Motor Oil & Roses

Jason stood at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling broccoli. He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering back to the events of that afternoon and the thrill of being put in mortal peril by a stranger who seemed like she lived in that state in perfect comfort. In the moment, he'd been preoccupied with the decline of his own safety and the fact that they would have been arrested if she'd slowed down any more, but in hindsight from the protection of his own kitchen, the girl herself was actually the thing he couldn't remove from his mind. But he would likely never see her again and that was probably for the best.

As if solely with the intention of ruining Jason's train of thought, Lucy entered the kitchen with a disdainful expression but didn't say a word. Instead, she opened up a cabinet, peered inside, then slammed it shut, then did the same with the fridge, and a drawer which she made a point of rummaging through noisily. Jason knew exactly what she was doing. She could be so dramatic and petty. He closed his eyes, trying to stay calm.

"What's wrong?" he asked, knowing very well the answer wouldn't satisfy the question.

"I'm just looking for dinner," Lucy replied, a hint of mocking in her tone.

"It's right here, I'm making it," Jason said.

"Oh, is that what that is?..." Lucy sneered at the stove.

"What's wrong with it?" Jason asked.

"Oh, nothing."

Jason exhaled, defeated. He just couldn't deal with this again. "What do you want? I'll make it," he said.

"Forget it, I've lost my appetite," Lucy bit.

"Lucy." Jason turned to face her. "What do you want?"

"Not much, Jason. I don't ask for a lot but with you it's always something."

"With me? I'm literally telling you I'm at your beck and call and you're making this an argument."

"Are you really giving me an attitude right now?" Lucy snapped, placing her hands on her hips.

"Lucy-"

"My kitchen smells like ass and there is nothing edible in this fridge. On what planet is this okay?"

"What do you want me to do?" Jason snapped back, throwing his hands up in surrender.

"Drop. The attitude," Lucy hissed. "I won't say it again." Jason rubbed his face with his hands, frustrated. "You can sleep on the couch tonight," Lucy ordered.

"Fine," Jason replied, and went back to stirring  _his_ dinner. Lucy gave him one last nostril-flaring glare and stormed out.

Later that night, after he'd eaten by himself and tried his hardest to unwind and relax on the couch, Jason found himself unable to sleep. He was still angry, and he could never sleep when he was angry. Lucy knew that and had used it against him on several occasions before. He turned onto his side, let out a deep breath, and tried to settle into the cushions and fall asleep, but in vain. He opened his eyes again, glaring into the darkness. He looked at his watch. 1:30 AM.

* * *

The night was cold and dark, and a low, sparse fog had settled between the industrial buildings along Lincoln Avenue. The dim yellow street lamps offered just enough light to make out the clearly abandoned warehouse on the corner. Jason could hear a commotion coming from the alley beside the ramshackle building and set out across the street to investigate.

A large mix of noisy people and decked out cars filled the massive lot behind the warehouse. Heavy bass music blared, and people were drinking, dancing, and checking out the selection of cars. He felt completely out of his element. Why had he come here?

Then he heard his name from somewhere in the crowd and turned to see Megan hurrying towards him, an excited smile lighting up her face. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. She smelled like motor oil and roses.

"I'm so glad you're here!" she shouted over the noise. "Let's get you a beer, come on!" She grabbed him by the hand and led him into the crowd. "Jordan! Gimme two!" She held up two fingers, and a heavily tattooed biker looking type approached them, cracking open two ice cold bottles. Megan took them and handed one to Jason.

"Thanks," she said. "This is Jason. Jason, Jordan."

Jordan nodded his greeting at Jason. "Sup?" he said. "How you know Megs?"

Megan stood closer to Jason and put a hand on his arm. "He helped me get revenge," she said gleefully.

"Right on," Jordan replied. "Asshole deserved it."

"How'd I do that?" Jason asked Megan, confused.

"I raced the guy who owned the Civic," she explained. "He cheated, totaled my baby, and still got the prize money. But, he's got an arsenal of illegally modified weapons on display in his living room like a dumbass. So, cops see the hit 'n runs and reckless driving, run the plate, trace it to his address, knock on the door, and he's done."

Jason nodded slowly, taking this in. The girl was smart. "Well, remind me not to get on your bad side," he said, trying to ignore the fact that he was overly aware of where her hand was still clutching his arm.

"Honestly, I'm not really a vindictive person," she said. "But I spent years and loads of cash on my car and he made me wreck it. Almost killed me along with it."

"I get it. I'd be pissed too," Jason replied. He knew a little something about lost ambitions.

"Make sure he gets the best view, yeah?" Megan said to Jordan. "I promised him VIP."

"For sure," Jordan answered, raising his own beer to Jason.

Megan leaned closer to Jason. "Keep your eye on the fancy shiny one," she said. Jason looked around at all the cars that probably cost more than his yearly salary.

"They're all fancy and shiny," he replied, amused.

"That one." Megan pointed at a brand new black sports car at the edge of the crowd. He couldn't exactly make out the make and model, as all the logos had been removed from it, but it definitely didn't look like anything  _he'd_  ever sold before.

"Goddamn," he said, impressed.

"Goddamn right," Megan replied. "I was owed a car and I cashed in! We'll see how it races."

Suddenly, the music cut out and an air horn blared.

"Wish me luck!" Megan shouted over the cheering of the crowd and ran off to her car.

"This way, man," Jordan said, and led Jason towards the warehouse.

The view from the roof was amazing. Jordan had pushed through the crowd all the way to the edge where a low wall ran along the perimeter, the whole time yelling, "VIP coming through, move it or lose it! I'm armed!" Jason found this a little amusing and a little concerning, but Jordan didn't seem like the type to attack unless really provoked. Besides, Megan seemed to trust him and somehow that was good enough.

They watched as all the cars lined up side by side, facing the warehouse. Something looked strange about that setup.

"Where are they supposed to go?" Jason asked Jordan. "Little circles around the lot?"

"You'll see," Jordan answered like he was withholding an exciting secret.

The second the race began, the sound of screeching tires was so deafening Jason almost had to cover his ears. There were at least ten cars down there, all with gas pedals hitting the floor. Everyone started cheering as the cars took off, converging on the alley beside the building. Megan's black car made it through first, while a few others smashed into each other trying to fit into the narrow space before the rest. The crowd ran to the other side of the roof and watched as the cars that had made it through sped down the street and disappeared around a corner.

Jason looked at Jordan expectantly.

"Yeah, not much to see 'cept the finish line," he explained. "Just wait, it's about to get exciting again in a minute."

They watched the empty streets below with baited breath. A few long moments later, the sound of screeching tires picked up again. Megan's car skidded around a corner, followed closely by three more. She sped into the alley and drifted around to a stop in the back lot.

The crowd ran back to the other side of the roof to see Megan get out of her car and jump up and down in celebration. Jason was impressed. That was the same fine maneuvering he'd witnessed just about twelve hours ago.

* * *

Jason and Megan waited at the counter of a nearby coffee shop as the sun was beginning to rise outside. The rest of the night had been a blur as the party behind the warehouse had continued, music and drinks and all. Countless people had approached Megan to congratulate her on her win, which she accepted graciously, but she hadn't left Jason's side for a minute. Maybe it was just because she was aware of the fact that he didn't know anyone else there and didn't want to leave him alone, but part of him hoped it was also for some other reason.

"Large mocha, two added shots, please," she ordered from the cashier. Jason ordered himself a cappuccino and insisted on paying for both of them as Megan pulled out her wallet.

"Thanks," she smiled at him.

"Can I get your names?" the cashier asked as he handed Jason back his card.

"Megan."

"Jason."

"You got it," the cashier said as he scribbled their names on their cups.

They sat down at a small table against the wall as they waited for their drinks. Megan hadn't stopped smiling since they'd left the warehouse.

"You not used to winning?" Jason teased.

"I love that car so much," she mused.

"Seems like that engine really packs a punch," Jason said.

"Zero to sixty in three seconds," she breathed. "I'm obsessed."

"Jesus, I'm surprised they don't consider that cheating," Jason chuckled.

"If the wrong driver is at the wheel it wouldn't matter how fast that car could go. It takes a special kinda skill to win."

"Don't let your ego get too big, now," Jason laughed. "You won't be able to fit it into your fancy new car."

"I'll find a way," she grinned at him.

"I have a cappuccino for Jason?" the barista called from behind the counter. "And a mocha for...Negan?"

Megan giggled. "What?" She got up to retrieve their order. She thanked the barista and brought both drinks back to their table.

"This is one of my favorite things, you know," she said as they sipped their coffees.

"What is?" Jason asked.

"Barista names," she answered. Jason smiled. He was finding himself unable to look away from her. "Never gotten this one before, though. You'd think Megan's the one they'd get right."

"As opposed to what?" Jason asked. He noticed a moment of hesitation.

"My, um...my actual name?" she muttered.

"What, it's not  _Megs?"_ he joked, remembering Jordan's nickname for her.

She looked at him a moment, considering, then held out her hand. "Marion Holmes," she said. Jason shook her hand, slowly.

"Still Jason Adams," he said, wondering why she'd use a fake name, though he had a pretty good hunch it had something to do with all the laws she'd broken in the last day, and probably more. "Nice to make your acquaintance, Marion," he added.

She smiled. "Well, now I'm considering officially changing it to Negan," she laughed, holding up her cup.

"Sounds exotic," Jason replied.

"Totally," she said.

Jason's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and deflated at the name on the caller ID.

"Just don't answer it," Marion suggested.

"You don't know what a mistake that would be," he said, opening the phone and raising to his ear. "Hello?" He immediately flinched it away as a shrill voice started screaming at the other end. Marion watched, eyebrows raised in concern.

"Where the fuck are you?!" Lucy shrieked at him.

"Lucy, relax, I left early for work. I left early. Calm down."

"At three o'clock in the morning? Don't bullshit me!"

"What were you doing up at three?"

Marion grimaced. Jason rubbed his eyes.

"You better get your ass back home  _immediately_ and explain yourself!" Lucy scolded.

Jason exhaled. "Yeah, I'll be there in a few." He snapped the phone shut. "Shit."

"Is it bad?" Marion asked.

"I shouldn't be surprised," he replied. A look of empathetic understanding crossed Marion's face.

"I'm sorry," she said. It was probably so obvious that he was unhappy, and she must have been asking herself why he'd never done anything about it. Maybe he'd explain it to her one day, if Lucy didn't murder him in his sleep after this.

"It's not your fault," Jason said. "I gotta go." He stood up to leave.

"Hold on." Marion pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled a phone number on a napkin. "If you need  _anything,_  okay?" she said, handing the napkin to him. He took it from her and looked down at her curvy handwriting.

"Okay," he said. "Thanks. See you." He put the napkin in his jacket pocket and left the coffee shop.


	4. Distraction

The days following the race were just as mundane as they'd been before, all blurring together into one long work week. The only difference was the lack of satisfaction that had always been the result of closing a sale. He hadn't gotten any worse at his job or at faking enthusiasm when pushing a buy on a customer, but it just wasn't enough anymore. For years, he'd wanted to open his own lot, or even buy this one from Alfonso, the current owner, but when he'd told Lucy about it, she asked him if he was  _trying_ to see less of her for the sake of a stupid job. So he was stuck at sales associate level, and although he was one of the lot's best salesmen, it wasn't what he wanted.

Mickey had made his own ambitions known when he'd first been hired. He wanted to do what Jason did. Hell, maybe Jason would just give him  _his_ job so he could quit. And then what? He'd never hear the end of it from Lucy. He sometimes found himself wondering what had happened to them. There was a time when he'd loved her, madly and truly, or he wouldn't have asked her to marry him. But he'd been blind to her manipulative nature before, and as the years passed, that side of her had overtaken the caring and nurturing side that he'd fallen for in the first place. He'd always found it amusing that she hated being called by her full name, Lucille, and he used to tease her about it and use that name only to be playfully swatted on the behind for it. Now, if he dared call her Lucille, she might very well hit him with her car. He didn't know what could possibly have changed so much in her, but he valued loyalty above everything else and he would be damned if he didn't hold himself to his own standards. But he didn't feel the least bit guilty about the lie he'd made up about going for a walk to clear his head at three o'clock in the morning and falling asleep at the coffee shop. There had been some truth to it. He  _was_  at the coffee shop that morning, just in a different context, one that Lucy could never find out about.

About a week later, Jason was driving home from another bland day at work. He sat at a red light, staring blankly out the windshield. There wasn't much cross traffic. A slow van. A truck. Then a sedan zoomed by, full speed. He laughed and shook his head fondly at the memory it evoked as he watched it disappear down the street. It was a happy memory, but that was what it would remain. Nothing good ever came of sneaking around, no matter how much fun it was.

Jason made it home with a clear head. He had forced the speeding car out of his mind for the sake of his own sanity. Besides, if he appeared distracted, Lucy would have questions, and he would have to come up with another lie. He didn't even check to see if she was home, and instead went straight upstairs to take a long, hot shower. He took his time towel drying his hair and finding a comfortable set of clothes to lounge in. It was Sunday night, and his favorite show was about to start.

He strolled casually down the stairs and into the living room to find Lucy curled up on the sofa. She was watching some obnoxious reality show, the remote clutched tightly in her hand.

"Hey, can I have that?" he asked, sitting down beside her and pointing at the remote.

"Why?" she replied.

"It's eight o'clock, my show's starting."

"I'm watching this now," she said, and turned up the volume.

Jason exhaled. "Can I set it to record, at least?" he ventured.

"I'm in the middle of this," she said. He should have known compromise was beneath her.

"Pause it," Jason said, not really caring if he was pushing her buttons.

"I can't hear what she's saying!" she bit, rewinding her show a few seconds.

"Why don't you record this and watch it uninterrupted when I'm not here?" he pressed on. "I watch one show, once a week."

"Shh!" was all he got in return. He figured he was still on her shit list for last weekend. The woman nurtured her grudges like they were her children. He missed the old Lucy. She would have forgiven him by now. Then again, if it was still the old Lucy, he never would have taken Marion up on her offer in the first place.

Jason sighed, exasperated, and pushed himself up off the couch, heading for the back door.

"You're not smoking again, are you?" Lucy snapped as he slid open the glass.

"No," he mumbled. He grabbed his jacket off the hook and stepped out into the cold, sliding the door shut behind him. He breathed in a lungful of the cool night air. There was something so peaceful about being outside at night.

The yard was small, with a patch of green grass just large enough to play fetch with a small dog, or for two or three little ones to play a game of tag. It was surrounded by a seven foot high fence made of thick wood, and all along the base of it were Lucy's beautiful rose bushes, sunflowers, and tomato plants. Her love for her garden had been the one thing to remain consistent. In one corner of the yard stood a tree whose branches towered over half the area. It made it feel cozy and safe, but the stars were still visible from where Jason sat leaning back against the little picnic table they had bought when they'd first moved in.

The soft breeze picked up, making him shudder, and he shoved his hands into his pockets. His fingers touched something soft and flimsy. He pulled it out and unfolded it. It was the napkin with Marion's phone number scribbled on it. He stared at it, conflicted. On the one hand he thought,  _no, you don't need to go sneaking around with some girl while your wife sits at home._ But on the other hand, what harm could there be in spending some time in pleasant company? He was allowed to have friends after all, was he not? He shook his head. He was starting to feel like a teenager worried about talking to the pretty girl who sat next to him. He tried to think of the last time he'd done something just for himself. A week ago he'd gone out in the middle of the night, but before that... He was drawing a blank.  _Fuck this shit,_ he thought, and pulled out his phone.

* * *

"I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't expecting to hear from you," Marion said as she sat down across from Jason. They'd decided to meet at the coffee shop during Jason's lunch hour the next day. He'd gotten there a little earlier and ordered their drinks. Marion's was a mocha, if he remembered correctly.

"That makes two of us," Jason replied.

"Everything okay?" Marion asked. She must have noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

"Fine," he lied. "Managed to finagle my way out of a horrible punishment."

"What is she, your mother?" Marion said, then immediately looked down. "Sorry. Not my business."

"'S okay," Jason replied. He watched her slowly spin her coffee cup around as they sat in silence. She stopped at the scribbled name on the side and an amused smile crossed her face. She turned the cup to show him how the name "Negan" had been written and laughed.

"I'm glad you remembered my new name," she joked.

"How could I forget?" Jason replied.

"So how's work been?" she asked, carefully sipping her coffee.

"Ever since you paid us a visit it's been in steady decline," he said. "Customers get less and less interesting by the day."

"All the more reason to find something that does interest you," she suggested. "If you're not enjoying every day, what's the point?"

"The point is stability and steady income," he replied. "I'm not really cut out for the criminal life."

"I'm not a criminal," Marion said breezily. "I mean... _technically_  I am. But I'm not a bad person. I've never murdered anyone."

"That's good," Jason laughed. "You got me there."

Marion smiled. "Well, casual law-breaking's not for everyone, but if you ever change your mind I'm happy to help."

"Maybe someday," he replied, nodding slowly.

"At least take up a new hobby or something in the meantime," she added. "Whatever helps break the dullness. Find something that makes you happy."

"I like my job," Jason said. "I do get some happiness from it."

"I don't mean your job," Marion replied with a knowing look. He knew exactly what she meant, but he wasn't sure how much would be appropriate to reveal at this point. Besides, his wife was the last thing he wanted to talk about with her.

He looked down at his cup. This was a delicate subject as it was, and Marion was honestly still a stranger. What if she turned out to be crazy or some big con artist? But even his rational thoughts couldn't block out the fact that he felt intoxicated by her presence. As corny as it felt to admit to himself, she really was a breath of fresh air and he was happy to have her around. That was something he didn't plan on letting go.


	5. Time & Circumstance

**Richmond, Virginia - October 2009**

A sudden loud buzzing from the nightstand snapped Jason out of his dream. He let the reality of wakefulness set in for just a second before violently snatching up his phone and peering at the caller ID. Not Lucy. He silenced the annoying thing and set it back on the nightstand.

"You okay?" Marion's voice croaked from beside him. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.

"Thought it was Lucy," Jason replied.

"What'd you tell her, anyway?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said. "Her friend's going through a nasty divorce so she stayed over there for the night."

"That's nice of her," Marion said flatly as she pulled the comforter around her shoulders and curled up.

"She's probably over there lecturing her on the sanctity of marriage," Jason quipped.

"Oh, we can't forget about Jesus," she mocked.

"Don't agree with her."

"Have you read your Bible this morning, Jason?"

"That's enough outta you." He grabbed his pillow and rolled over on top of her, pressing it down on her face. She tried to wriggle free, giggling.

"Unhand me, heathen!" her muffled voice laughed through the feathers.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - November 2009**

Early mornings before work were always busier at the coffee shop. Jason stood in line with Marion beside him. He had just woken up, and she had just come from another race. She took his hand in both of hers and rested her head gently on his shoulder. It was freezing outside and she was warm. He kissed the top of her head. Her hair smelled like roses.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - December 2009**

The kitchen in Marion's apartment was much smaller than the one at Jason's house, but it felt much more homey. She had colorful cooking utensils, bright red pans, and an assortment of cereals that rivaled even the biggest grocery chain. She'd wanted to add as much color as possible to offset the "boring-ass white walls" that she wasn't allowed to paint, and the living room—which the kitchen directly opened up to—was decorated with all manner of art prints and fairy lights. She'd truly made the space her own and Jason loved being there.

She wasn't much of a cook, which he'd correctly guessed the first time he saw her cereal collection. It didn't bother him. He liked cooking for her. No matter what he made she always enjoyed it and never complained once that it was too spicy or too bland. She even encouraged him to try new recipes and let her be the official taste tester.

They were lucky enough to find time for another date night at her place. Lucy was under the impression that he'd been sent out of town for some weekend sales conference, so he was safe for a couple days. They usually couldn't spend more than an hour or two together without Jason having to make something up and raise Lucy's suspicions. He'd felt the tiniest pang of guilt in the beginning, but then she'd flipped out over the mud on his shoes when he came home one day and that guilt vanished. He started putting his own happiness first and his whole outlook on life changed because of it.

Jason stood at the stove, stirring a boiling pot of pasta.

"I love that smell," Marion said. She stood beside him, scratching his back, and kissed his shoulder.

"What smell?" Jason asked.

"Cooking pasta," she replied. "No one ever agrees with me, but it smells delicious."

Jason set the wooden spoon down and turned to her, pushing the hair out of her face, and looked down into her bright brown eyes. He'd felt himself starting to fall for her long ago, and this moment was no different. He kissed her, softly but intimately, his attention entirely on her. Being this close to her brought him pure comfort, as though this were always meant to happen. He lost himself for a moment, but was brought instantly back by the sound of sizzling. The pot was boiling over and he scrambled to turn down the flame while Marion grabbed a fistful of paper towels. They were both laughing as they cleaned up the mess.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - February 2010**

It had been cold and grey all day, Marion's favorite weather, and they'd been holed up in her apartment for the majority of it. Her bedroom had gotten chilly, too, but it was warm under the covers. They lay facing each other, snuggled up in blankets. Jason was playing with her hair, unable to take his eyes off her face. These were the moments he cherished, as they were few and far between.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice nearly a whisper. She smiled in response, and kissed his hand.

"Don't go to work anymore," she said, her smile faltering a little.

"I'll be fine," he replied.

"It's happening to too many people, now. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you." She was right. This strange outbreak, this disease or whatever it was, had appeared out of nowhere and was taking more and more victims every day. At first he and Marion had thought it was just another drug addict who couldn't control his high, but then it kept happening, and before long it was publicly confirmed as unrelated to illegal substances.

"It'll be contained in a matter of days," he said, not believing his own words for a minute.

"We don't know that."

"Mar…"

She gently placed a hand on his face. He could tell she was serious. "Please," she said.

"Okay. Okay, I won't." He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. There had only been a handful of cases in Richmond, but he didn't want her to worry.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - March 2010**

"Shoes here." Jason pointed at the shoe rack just inside the front door. He and Marion kicked off their shoes and stored them neatly away. Jason headed for the kitchen as Marion ventured further into the living room to look around. This was the first time he'd brought her here. He poured them each a cup of coffee that had already been brewing, mixed hers up just the way she liked it, and went back out into the living room.

Marion was standing in front of the fireplace, examining a framed photo of him and Lucy on the mantle.

"Here," he said, beckoning her away from the picture.

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking the mug and turning back to the mantle. "This her?"

"Yeah," Jason replied. "Come on."

He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze as he led her out the back door to the yard.

They sat down across from each other at the picnic table, the sunlight warming their backs. Marion stared down into her coffee.

"What's wrong?" Jason asked, hoping the conversation wouldn't turn back to Lucy.

"Nothing, I just…" she paused, then laughed once. "I miss racing."

"Why haven't you been racing?" Jason replied.

"It just stopped," she said. "No one wants to leave their house anymore."

"I don't think I ever asked you why you love it so much," he ventured. "What has you so hooked? It's illegal and dangerous, I can't imagine…"

"I don't know," she said. "I've just always been good at it. It's probably the only thing I'm good at."

"No, it's not," Jason said.

"It is," she replied. "And it's not just that… I hope I don't sound crazy. It's the control of it, you know? Like I can just  _think_  where I want the car to go and it goes. Like we're connected..." She paused again, and snorted. "I'm sorry, that's so dumb." She shook her head and laughed.

"What are you talking about? That's not dumb at all," Jason tried to reassure her. As a matter of fact, he found it quite endearing.

"It's so cheesy, why do you even listen to me?"

"It sounds important to you."

"It was."

She stood and walked across the fresh grass. "And now I'm just…" She plopped down and sprawled out in the sun. "Unimportant."

No, no, he was not going to let her put herself down like that. She was far too special to think so little of herself. He got up and stretched out on the grass next to her.

"You could always race another cop," he offered.

"They're too busy lately," she replied.

He turned his head to look at her. "You're not unimportant," he said. "You're very important. I'd have lost my mind by now if it wasn't for you." She looked back at him and smiled, a hint of a blush in her cheeks. Jason looked back up at the sky.

"Look who's gettin' cheesy now," he said. She didn't look away, just kept smiling at him. "Quit starin'," he laughed.

Marion propped herself up on her elbow and turned his face towards her. She just looked at him for a moment, then kissed him.

"I don't deserve you," she whispered against his lips, and kissed him again.

* * *

Jason was in the kitchen the next morning, scrambling up some eggs for breakfast, when Marion emerged in the doorway, squinting in the light.

"Mornin', grumpy," he said. She just grunted and leaned against the counter beside him, rubbing her eyes. "Lucy called," he added with a hint of bitterness. "She's leaving Boston a day early. I gotta pick her up later."

Marion didn't say anything, just looked down and fussed with the hem of her t-shirt. Jason scraped the eggs onto a plate with some toast and handed it to her. She took it quietly.

"She doesn't love you," she muttered. Jason leaned sideways against the counter beside her. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. He ran his fingers lovingly through her hair.

"Eat," he said. She took a bite of toast. "Better?"

"Mhm," she said through a mouthful, and looked at him apologetically.

"You should really learn how to cook real food," he said.

"Cereal is real food," she replied, and took another bite of toast.

"Can you even scramble an egg?"

"That's not important."

He snorted and kissed her head. "You'll starve."

She smiled and kept eating. "Not with you around," she said.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - April 2010**

Jason's car idled in the middle of the empty parking lot, Marion in the passenger seat and him at the wheel.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Come on, it's easy!" she teased, pulling her seatbelt tighter.

"Oh my god," he said, and turned the wheel to the left.

"All the way," she said. "Good. Now floor it and hold it."

"Fuck fuck fuck," he murmured as his foot slammed down on the gas, sending the car into a screeching donut.

"Yes! That's perfect!" Marion shouted with glee. They spun around a few times, and then something caught Jason's eye out the windshield. He stopped the car and turned to look over his shoulder. Marion did the same. A rotting corpse was shuffling towards them from across the lot. They watched as it approached, their smiles fading.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - May 2010**

Marion sat at her dining table, picking at a piece of toast, while Jason cleaned up in the kitchen. She'd been quiet all morning, but he thought it might just be because she hated being holed up inside all day.

"What do you wanna do for dinner?" he asked.

"You pick," she replied without looking up from her plate.

"Doesn't matter to me," he said.

" _You_  pick," she said again. She sounded annoyed.

"Really, it's up to you," Jason said, trying to keep the peace.

"Jason, please stop treating me like Lucy," she muttered. It wasn't what he'd been expecting, but at least it was something.

"What?" he replied. He tried his damnedest to keep Marion happier than he'd ever been able to make Lucy. There was no way he could be failing.

"Not everything is up to me," she bit. "What do  _you_ want?"

"I told you—" Marion slammed her hand on the table before he could finish his sentence.

"You never talk about what you want!" she snapped, her voice growing louder with each word.

"Mar—"

"It's always about me! Stop treating me like her! Give me attitude! Tell me you're tired of my shit! Grow a spine!"

Jason was at a loss for words. He was completely taken aback. How could she want those things from him?

"We never even fight!" she continued. "Why don't you ever argue with me?"

"Because I don't want to!" he shouted back.

"I can't hear you!" she cried.

"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO!"

"What  _do_ you want, Jason?!"

"YOU! ONLY YOU!" He'd lost his temper. "I want my  _wife_ to disappear. Okay?!  _She's_ the one I wanna fight  _all the time._ Not you! I don't love her, I love YOU!" That was the first time he'd ever said those words, and he immediately regretted saying them at a time like this. It was neither the time nor the place, and he wished he could take it back, but it was too late.

Marion hesitated at the words for a moment, but the glare returned to her face half a second later.

"No, do  _not_ do this now!" she barked. "Don't try to change the subject! JUST FIGHT ME!" She threw her plate at him, nearly missing his head. It shattered to pieces behind him.

"Marion!" he exclaimed, completely aghast.

"She fucked you up!" she shouted, bursting into angry tears. "She's sick! And she's made you into this! Stand up for yourself!"

Jason stepped closer to her. He wanted to calm her down and try to talk this out, but Marion was in a rage. He tried to put his hands on her shoulders and she just swatted them away.

"You will  _always_ be hers! And I can't take it!" She shoved him hard, but he grabbed her wrists and forced her to stay still. She collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and let her cry without saying another word.

"I'm so sorry," she finally croaked after she'd calmed down a little. "I'm so sorry, Jason."

He didn't say anything. He just held her tighter and kissed her head.

"I love you, too," she whispered. "I hope I didn't make you think otherwise."

"I know you do," he replied gently.

"I'm sorry I lost it," she added. "It'll never happen again."

"It's okay," he replied. He had to do something. He couldn't stay with Lucy. Not when it upset Marion this badly. But she'd never sign a single divorce paper. She was far too stubborn. He was sure she'd rather stay married to someone who hated her just to spite him. But Marion had a point. He'd have to grow a spine. He had to fix this.


	6. Torn

Jason thought long and hard about everything on the drive home, and yet for some reason he found his resolve slipping away the closer he got. An hour ago he was ready to call Lucy and demand a divorce over the phone, but now he was feeling less sure of himself. This was exactly why Marion had been so angry. She knew he was stuck in a loveless marriage and she saw that he wasn't doing anything about it. It wasn't fair to any of them. He tried to turn the logical part of his brain off before he thought himself into a corner, but a little voice kept telling him there was no use because Lucy would never let him go.

He sat in his car in the driveway for a minute before gathering up the courage to go inside.

Upon entering his house, Lucy ambushed him almost immediately.

"Where the hell have you been?" she snapped.

"Follow-up with a client," he replied. He could feel the cold sweat coming on. What was wrong with him?

"Don't lie to me, Jason!" she returned. "I know you don't do follow-ups. You're a damn crook!"

"Calm down," he said. He knew that was the worst thing to say to someone like her, but it was better than nothing.

"Why do your clothes always smell like roses?" she continued, completely ignoring his words.

"Probably from you," he answered indignantly.

"I don't wear perfume, you know it gives me headaches!"  _You're a damn headache._

"Well it ain't me," he said.

"And who's this  _Megan_  you keep calling, huh?" His heart stopped.

"You went through my phone?" he bit.

"I know you're cheating on me with some whore!  _Stop lying!"_

That was it. He'd finally had enough.

"Fine!" he shouted. "Maybe I am!"

"Excuse me?!" The look on Lucy's face was priceless.

He exhaled, then spoke calmly and clearly. "You make my life a living hell. Okay? You are literally the reincarnation of Lucifer himself.  _You_ did this to us.  _You_ pushed me away, and I found someone else. Someone who isn't neurotic and shrill. And you know what? I love her. More than I ever loved you. I am done with you."

Lucy stared at him, a look of pure evil crossing her face. It was terrifying, but he stood by what he said. Before he knew what had happened, there was a hard pain in his left eye and cheek, and his head had turned ninety degrees to the right. When he looked back at Lucy, she was rubbing her knuckles.  _Jesus fucking Christ, you punched me, you old bat._

* * *

Jason was knocking at Marion's door not ten minutes later. When she opened it and saw the state of his face all he said was, "I did what you told me."

Marion just kept staring at him. "I'm gonna kill her," she stated flatly, and tried to push past him without even putting her shoes on, but he reached out to stop her.

"Don't go over there," he said. "Please." He pulled her back inside and closed the door.

Marion put her hands on his face to examine the shiner. "Tell me what happened," she said.

He laughed humorlessly. "She smelled you on me," he said. "She went through my phone. She caught me in a lie. And I told her how I really feel about her. And you."

"Jesus," Marion breathed. She led him to the couch and went to the kitchen to rummage through the freezer. She came back with a bag of frozen peas and handed it to him. He rested his head back and held the bag against his eye. She took his hand and leaned her head on his shoulder, and they just sat in silence.

* * *

**Richmond, Virginia - July 2010**

The snarling was right behind him as he bolted up the steps to the front door. Jason hurried inside his house and slammed the door behind him before glancing out the window. There were two of them in the driveway.

"Hi, honey." Lucy's uncharacteristically chipper voice startled him. He turned to see her standing by the kitchen with a suspicious smile. "How was work?" she asked.

"Cleaned out my desk," he said carefully. "When Al saw a tank drivin' down the street he decided we're closed until further notice."

"Aw, that's too bad," she replied. He had no idea what to make of this.

"I'm just here to get my things," he said, and stepped into the living room, not bothering to remove his shoes.

"Where are you going?" Lucy asked.

"Marion's—Megan's," he corrected himself. "I haven't heard from her in a while."

"Oh, I don't think you're gonna," Lucy said. Jason narrowed his eyes.

"Lucy, what did you do?" he said.

"I know all about  _Marion_   _Holmes_ ," she replied smugly. "Did you know there was a  _ten thousand dollar_ reward for information leading to her arrest?"

_What the fuck._ "Lucy?" He pulled out his phone and dialed Marion's number. It just kept ringing. Lucy smirked.

"I don't think she's gonna answer."

"Where is she?" he demanded.

"She's going away for a long time," Lucy said. "If the outbreak doesn't get her first."

"Did you have her arrested?!" Jason barked.

"Did you really think I wouldn't follow you?" she laughed. "I saw her. What is she, half your age?" There was an age difference, sure, but he'd just turned forty and she was only thirteen years younger, so it wasn't as bad as  _half._

"No! What does that matter— _where is she?!"_

"You'll never find her."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Remember my good friend Steve? The one who's warden at County?" she taunted. "He did me a favor and made sure she was transferred far away."

Jason stormed at her. "WHERE IS SHE, LUCILLE?" He shoved her into the wall.

"Look who's grown some balls!" she exclaimed, her voice quivering only slightly. Jason slammed his fist into the drywall beside her head.

"WHERE?" he screamed in her face.

"I'll never tell you," she replied, more shaky this time. Jason wrapped his hand around her throat before he could stop himself and squeezed. She struggled against his grip, trying to pry his hand away, but he only squeezed tighter until she started turning purple.

"Green—Greenwood County. South Carolina," she croaked. "Leath Correctional." He let her go and she fell to the floor, coughing and gasping for air. "Get out!" she rasped. "Get out of my house!"

Jason was more than happy to oblige. He turned and opened the front door, only to find the same two biters standing there. The commotion must have attracted them. He stepped back quickly but quietly and grabbed the wooden bat he kept behind the door. The biters slowly sauntered into the house. Lucy tried to scramble away, but they were going right at her. Jason remained still and quiet, watching.

"Do something!" Lucy shouted at him. She was only making it worse for herself. Jason did nothing. The biters beared down on her. She tried to fight them off but they were too strong. One of them chomped down on her neck, while the other ripped some flesh from her arm. And as she screamed, Jason walked out the door.

* * *

He sped down the deserted highway, focused and determined to get where he was going, without allowing himself to get sick at the thought of what he'd just done.  _She was awful and she deserved it._

There really was no one out anymore. He swerved around a few biters, some abandoned cars, and past a building that was up in flames without a firetruck in sight.

* * *

**Greenwood County, South Carolina - July 2010**

The prison was in shambles. The perimeter fence had been cut open in several places and knocked down completely in others. The administration building was a post-fire heap. Dead ones in inmate uniforms ambled around the grounds. Jason stood by his car, hands on his head, looking around at the mess. She had to be here.

"Marion?" he called out. He approached part of what used to be the fence and peered across the grounds. "Marion!" His eyes scanned the biters now headed in his direction. There was no sign of her. Maybe she was trapped inside. He reached into the car to grab the bat and hurried toward the nearest building. He remembered something Mickey had said about aiming for the head if he ever came into contact with one of the new cannibals. As he approached the brick building, a small group of them advanced on him. He broke into a run and swung as hard as he could at the closest one, crushing her skull with a single blow. The body fell to the ground with a thud. It seemed to work. He took out the other two with ease. They were slow and easy targets.

He'd made it to the closest wall where the heavy metal door was barely hanging on to its hinges. Quietly, he peeked inside to make sure the coast was clear. Surprisingly enough he found the hallway empty, but through the window of the door at the other end he could see the cells, each containing a corpse, either animated or motionless. They must have been left behind in the commotion, but after all, how many prisoners would the guards have been willing to save in a state of emergency like this?

He ran inside and tried to force the other door open, but it wouldn't budge. He pressed his face to the reinforced glass and scanned the face of every body he could see. None of them looked like Marion. He had to find another way in. He ran back outside and around the corner of the building, taking out two more biters as he ran. He needed to be quick before he attracted too much attention. There was another doorway halfway down this side where the door had been ripped completely from its frame. He glanced over his shoulder quickly to make sure no one was approaching, then ran inside to find another row of cells. These had all been opened and evacuated. Maybe one of them had been Marion's. He stepped quietly inside the first one and looked under the pillow, pulled back the sheet on the mattress, and looked under the bed, but could find nothing to suggest that she had been here. He did the same with the next cell, and the next. He was beginning to grow desperate, making more noise as he went along, which he knew was dangerous, but he had to find out where she could have gone.

The last cell in this hallway was more of a mess than the others had been. This one looked like it had been ransacked before whoever had left it got out. He hurried in and searched the sheets and extra uniforms scattered across the floor. Then something caught his eye. There was a thin grey jacket that looked like it was part of the uniform for cold weather, and on the front like a nametag scribbled in black marker was the name Negan. This was hers. He'd found her. She must have made it out. He clutched the jacket in his hand and ran full speed back out of the hallway.

Jason made it back to his car in one piece and sped off down the street. He didn't get far before a mob of corpses crossing the road blocked his way. They seemed to be heading for something off in the trees. He screeched to a halt beside another abandoned car. He could hear voices shouting. Human voices.

He grabbed the bat and jumped out, climbing onto the roof and making all kinds of noise.

"Hey, assholes!" he shouted at the biters. "Come and get me!" Sure enough, they all turned to him, and Jason could see two men and a woman crouched against the trees looking at him in surprise. He started swinging at the biters as they neared him, but he'd definitely overestimated the efficiency of one bat against ten attackers. One of the men hurried forward and sunk a dagger into the head of a biter, while the woman swung a crowbar at another.

"You!" Jason pointed at the second man, still standing by the trees. "Get up on that car and distract 'em! Thin out the herd!" The man hesitated a moment, then made a run for it. He hopped swiftly up onto the other car and started stomping his feet and yelling. Half the biters broke away and went after him. That definitely made it easier. Jason took out one after the other like it was a simple game of golf, while the others took care of the rest. When there were only two left, Jason raised his bat for a final swing, but this one was faster than the rest. It grabbed hold of his ankle and he lost his footing atop the car. The last thing he remembered was falling through the air before everything went black.


	7. Dominion

"Negan!" There was a distant voice calling to him somewhere in the darkness. He couldn't see or hear much of anything, but there was definitely something solid against his back.

"Negan!" the voice called again. It sounded closer this time, and less disembodied. Shapes started to form in his vision. Maybe he wasn't opening his eyes wide enough. He felt a sturdy hand on his shoulder. "Hey, man, come back to us."

Suddenly there was a face staring down at him. It was palid and worried and kept glancing around as if they were supposed to be hiding from something.

"You alright?" the stranger asked as Jason pushed himself upright. He'd been lying flat on his back and there was a dull pain in the back of his head. "You took kind of a nasty fall but we weren't about to leave ya."

Jason looked around, acquainting himself with his surroundings. They were still by the trees, the dead biters right beside them, and the bat was still clutched tightly in his hand.

"You saved our lives, man," the stranger said. "We were surrounded. Anyone else woulda kept drivin'."

Jason took in the other new faces. One was slightly balding with a mustache like a cowboy, the other was a young woman with dark hair and a genuinely concerned expression.

"I'm Dwight," the stranger continued. "That's Sherry, and Simon. And you're Negan, right?"

"What?" Jason's voice was a raspy whisper. He coughed to clear his throat.

"Ain't this yours?" Dwight held up the grey jacket. "Found it in your car."

"Yeah," Jason replied, taking the jacket as Dwight held it out to him, and suddenly all the events of that day came back to him. "Hey, any of you seen a girl 'round here? Probably wearin' the Leath uniform. Brown hair, maybe speedin' around in a car?"

"Only escaped convicts we seen walkin' around were already dead," Simon answered.

"Nah, she's not dead," Jason muttered to himself. "She's not dead."

"We should probably get outta here before more of 'em come along," Sherry suggested nervously. "We got a place to stay if you wouldn't mind givin' us a ride."

"Yeah, no problem," Jason replied. Simon and Dwight helped him up, and as he drove carefully in the directions he was guided, he kept his eyes alert, scanning the trees for any sign of movement. He had to find Marion. He would not allow himself to be eaten alive, not when she was on her own out here somewhere, though he suspected she could most likely handle herself.

Still, it made him uneasy, and he didn't like that they were driving south when Richmond was the other way. If he were in Marion's place, the first thing he would have done is get back home somehow. Maybe she'd walk into his house to find Lucy's half eaten corpse and realize what must have happened, then come back this way thinking he would have gone to find her. That would be the best case scenario, and best cases weren't the most common. There were four hundred miles between Richmond and Greenwood, and even if she took one of the spare cars left in the street, it wouldn't be an easy trip back. The rural areas between the cities were no longer safe and refreshing. They'd succumbed to the outbreak faster than the urban areas, where there were more people to fight back and more authorities to offer protection. But no one knew how long that would last. And for all he knew, Richmond had become a wasteland in the six hours that he'd spent speeding away from it.

* * *

**Somewhere in Northern Georgia - July 2010**

A school seemed like a perfectly logical place to find shelter. It was deserted, and luckily there were no dead people walking around inside the fence.

"We figured most people'd be looting the stores and shit," Dwight explained as they pulled into the teacher's parking lot. "We're mostly left alone here. And it's pretty safe from the eaters."

As the others opened their doors to get out, Jason remained in his seat. Dwight noticed.

"Ain't you comin' in?" he asked.

"I gotta go back," Jason replied.

"Dude," Dwight protested. "You really knew what the fuck you were doin' with those eaters. Stay with us. You could help us save more people and bring 'em back here."

It was a tempting offer. He was being given shelter and the protection of the group. Maybe it was best if he stayed with them. After all, going out and saving people might result in finding Marion, and he couldn't very well do that if he was alone and dead.

* * *

**Somewhere in Southern South Carolina - March 2011**

There were seventeen of them, now, and they were living in an abandoned mall, though when they'd first found it, Dwight swore it had been left to rot long before the outbreak. They were able to reinforce all the entrances and hunker down in the central area while the department stores at either end served as a booby-trap riddled warning center. No one, dead or alive, could come through without raising the alarm. Jason, Dwight, and Simon would leave through the back door of the only store that didn't have floor to ceiling windows. It was more secure that way, and they didn't have to maneuver their way through the department stores carefully if they were in a hurry.

They'd saved a few families already, and a few of the members even joined them on their supply and people runs. Commanding a group through a hairy situation had come naturally to Jason, and they'd started looking up to him as their leader. And though he didn't really want to lead anyone at first, he realized eventually that it was something he was good at, something useful, and he ended up embracing it.

They still hadn't found Marion. He insisted frequently that they search further inland, in the area where they'd first found him, but he never mentioned her by name, and always made it seem like he simply thought there'd be more people there. He couldn't show any sign of weakness and risk it ruining what he was building. Fortunately, no one asked him about the escaped convict he'd been looking for all those months ago.

* * *

**North South Carolina? - May 2012**

Negan had forty-three lives depending on him now. He'd left his real name in the past. Never even mentioned it to Dwight or Simon. The people he chose to save were useful and loyal. It was the ones that dared pose a threat to them that he decided had to die. He'd made the mistake of letting some people go just once, and it had come back to bite them in the ass. Anyone who wanted what they had but didn't want to join them was an enemy, plain and simple. He couldn't have his group infiltrated by evil doers, not when innocent, hardworking lives were at stake.

Still no sign of Marion, even though they'd moved further north to a Costco. But maybe that had been their biggest mistake of all. Who wouldn't think of Costco in times like these? Massive space, virtually unlimited supply of food and drinks and clean clothes. Everyone wanted in, but it was theirs. The break-ins were frequent and were growing more and more dangerous. Two of his people were killed by intruders, devastating their families. So he'd made the decision to leave that haven behind.

* * *

**Back in Virginia, Possibly - January 2013**

"Look, right there, right there." Dwight pointed out the windshield at the plume of smoke rising from the hills. In the dim light of dusk, there was a tiny orange speck glowing at its source.

"You're sure that's them," Negan said, peering at the distant light.

"Yeah, I tracked them into those hills last night," Dwight replied. "Looked like six or seven of 'em."

Negan pushed down on the gas and they sped down the highway, the arsenal truck and two other cars close in tow. This was going to be satisfying.

About a mile up the hill, they turned their headlights off, and drove until the there wasn't a drop of sunlight left. They parked, unloaded the guns from the truck, and went for a stroll.

"Ding dong!" Negan sang, swinging his bat as they approached the badly protected campsite. The two men sitting by the fire jumped immediately to their feet, pistols raised. Negan's men raised their own guns, and the two were outnumbered. "I'm here to cash in on an IOU, gentlemen," he announced.

"We don't know what the fuck you're talkin' about," one of them answered nervously, looking around at all the gun barrels pointed in his direction.

"We don't owe you shit," the other one spat, not seeming quite as concerned.

Negan noticed movement in the corner of his eye as one of the tents was slowly being unzipped, but Simon was already moving cautiously towards it.

"Oh, I believe you do," Negan said, his voice menacingly lower. There was a commotion, the sound of a zipper being forced open, and Simon dragged a terrified woman out.

"Davis, do something!" she pleaded at the men by the fire.

"Davis, do nothing," Negan said calmly and Simon pulled the woman over to him. "Hello, ma'am, nice to see ya again," he said as he looked her up and down.

"I don't know you," she snarled, regaining some of her confidence.

"So where'd you get those fancy shoes from?" Negan asked, pointing at the too-clean Nike's on her feet.

"They're mine," she replied contemptuously.

"I happen to know that's a damn lie, ma'am," he countered, then turned back to the men by the fire. "Now your Miss Lady here took it upon herself to hunt down and slaughter one of my people, and then had the audacity to steal the clothes off his back. That sort of behavior shouldn't go unpunished, wouldn't you agree?"

"Look, mister, we gotta look after ourselves, too," a voice snapped from one of the tents.

"What are you gonna do?" the woman asked, struggling against Simon's grip.

"Well, I myself happen to get a bitter taste in my mouth at the thought of killin' women," Negan said. "So I'll trade ya. Send me your best man and we'll be on our way." He grinned at them like he was offering them a pile of gold.

"Whatchu mean, killin' women?" one of the men stammered. "You gonna kill one of us?"

"I think it's only fair," Negan replied. There was an audible shudder throughout the campsite. "Alright now, everyone out. Let's take a look at what you got." No one moved. Negan's expression grew darker. "I said, everyone out or I kill both of these men right here right now!"

That got them moving. There were suddenly four others standing around the fire, and two of them were men. Excellent.

"Now, who wants to pay us back for what she took?" he asked, nodding his head at the captive. All six faces just stared back at him. No one wanted to be a hero. He let them think on it for a minute. It was, after all, a horribly difficult decision, but it was one that had to be made, regardless.

One of the men—possibly thinking he'd fight back—raised his gun, but no sooner had he pulled back the hammer than a deafening shot rang out through the trees, and the man in question was dead on the ground. Negan turned to see Dwight beside him, pistol still in the air and smoking.

"God  _damn,_ he's fast!" Negan cackled at the campers, who were now stuck in a panic with nowhere to run. "Thank you, Dwight," he added, clapping him on the shoulder.

Simon let the woman go and she scampered back to the others.

"Thank your friend for volunteerin' when he wakes up," Negan said as they turned back to their cars. "And careful not to get bit."

The sheer power and sense of fulfillment that was running through him as they drove back to their compound made him high. No one could touch him. No one could mess with his people and get away with it. He had made them an impenetrable force, and even though one or two rats might get in, extermination was a simple process.

* * *

**Who the Fuck Even Knows Anymore - February 2016**

The news of the outpost slaughter at the hands of Rick Grimes had been a hard blow. Murdered in their beds while they slept. This was a new low that even Negan couldn't have imagined, but he should have expected nothing less from a group that stubborn. They didn't want to work, didn't want to earn their keep, only wanted things their way without giving anything in return. Peaceful cohabitation could still very much be a reality, but Rick seemed to disagree. Still, Negan saw them as a challenge. Yes, there would most definitely be retribution for all those lost lives, but maybe showing some undeserved mercy would get them to see the light. It was a risk, and he only felt fifty percent confident that it would work, but the choice would be Rick's. It would all be on him to save the rest of his people.

The anger that boiled through him as he figured out the plan kept him awake. He'd tried channeling it into Lucille as he swung her into biter after biter, a technique that he'd found gave him extra strength, but killing the dead didn't settle his thoughts of revenge. Part of him hoped Rick would refuse to join them again, giving him a reason to take them all out. But he had to be a fair and benevolent leader for the sake of his own people. If Rick wanted to start a war, he would be happy to oblige, but Negan would not be the one responsible for more senseless killing.


	8. Wrong Way

**Yes, Definitely Virginia - February 2018**

Marion's feet hurt. Her ankles and knees ached. But she refused to stop walking. Every moment spent in one place was another moment that could have been spent finding food or water or shelter. She'd tried living with others, joined a group for a short time, but putting their wishes before her own had slowed her down too much. She was better off with the freedom of solitude. She'd found it easier to hide, easier to move around, even easier to defend herself against the undead. All she had to do was run. There was no need to worry about anyone else.

She was trekking down the center of another rural road that twisted and turned through a thicket of trees. All she had was her backpack and her hammer, a sledgehammer to which she'd duct taped several footlong metal spikes. She could swing it to impale skulls, or thrust it to shove enemies away. It really was one of her most prized possessions. She'd given up on cars long ago. They were too noisy and gasoline was nearly impossible to find by now.

So much had happened since she'd made her escape during the riot. She had immediately gone back to Richmond to find Jason, but all she'd found was his wife, torn to pieces. She'd spent a few days running around the city, trying to find him or anyone who would have known where he'd gone, but it had become impossible to move safely from one block to another, so she left and went back south. Over time, she'd started to forget what he looked like. She didn't have any pictures of him, and although the details of his features had begun to fade, she could never forget his voice, deep and smooth, the way it tickled her ear when he spoke softly beside her.

Over the years, her previous life had become a distant memory that was becoming increasingly difficult to recall, like a dream that she desperately wanted to remember, but couldn't. She'd almost been killed on several occasions, twisted her ankle a handful of times which made it nearly impossible to run, trusted people who ended up betraying her, and killed more people—both dead and alive—than she cared to count. It no longer made her sick. It had become a part of her life, just like the rest of the world. She was living in a different reality now, and there was no going back.

She heard a scream up ahead, and the sounds of a struggle. Quickly, she pulled her hammer from her bag and ducked down behind a bush at the side of the road. A young man stumbled out of the trees, wrestling with a growler. It almost had him, but he was managing well enough to keep a good distance between its teeth and his skin. As she watched, hammer gripped tightly in her hand, the man caught his ankle on something and fell down hard, the growler right on top of him.

"Vicky! Help!" he shouted to no one that Marion could clearly see. He continued to wrestle the thing, and Marion was torn between helping him and staying hidden.

"Vicky!" he shouted again. Finally, Marion gritted her teeth and made a run for it. She swung her hammer, shattering the growler's skull into a mess of slimy pieces. The man scrambled away from her, dragging his ankle. A woman with a striking resemblance to the man—siblings, most likely—hurried out from the trees. Marion raised her hammer in defense, and the woman raised a bloody machete.

"Are you one of Negan's?" she demanded. That name struck something in her memory, but she couldn't quite place it.

"Who?" Marion replied.

"Negan? The Saviors?"

"No," she answered. "But the name's vaguely familiar."

"Probably cause he's the one out here killing everybody," the man interjected.

"If you really don't know who he is, keep it that way," the girl said. "Turn around and go back to wherever you came from."

The man tried to push himself to his feet, but hissed in pain when he tried to put weight on his ankle, and sat back down.

"Can I look at that?" Marion offered. The strangers exchanged a weary look. "I'm not a doctor or anything, but I've wrapped my own enough times."

"Sure," the man relented. Marion kneeled down and pulled a length of cloth from her bag. The girl stood menacingly over her, watching every move. Marion gingerly pushed up his pantleg and started wrapping it tightly.

"So were you a nurse before, or what?" he asked.

"No," Marion said flatly.

"I'm Troy, by the way," he offered. "That's Vicky."

"Ava," she replied. She'd grown so used to using aliases before, and using her real name made her feel unprotected somehow, that she just made up new ones with everyone she met.

"Thanks, Ava," Troy said. "Saved my life."

"You're welcome," she replied as she finished up the wrapping. "Try not to put too much weight on it for a few days."

"Yeah, easier said than done."

Vicky helped him back to his feet and turned to her. "Listen," she said sternly. "Get out of here before the Saviors find you. We barely got away."

"Thanks for the heads up," Marion said, and started down her initial path again.

"Where are you going?" Vicky said.

"That way," Marion answered, pointing.

"Negan is that way. Staying alive is that way." Vicky pointed back in the direction Marion had come from. "It's your choice." She and Troy took their leave in the "staying alive" direction. But Marion couldn't go backwards, not when she'd made it this far south with nothing but death and desolation behind her. So she continued on, despite Vicky's warning.

Eventually, Marion made it out onto the main highway as it was beginning to get dark. There was a grand selection of cars and trucks to take refuge in for the night, so she started her search for a sturdy car without anything rotting inside. The back door of a Ford Superduty pickup truck opened to reveal an empty cabin with enough room for her to curl up for a nap. She climbed up into the massive truck, pulling the door shut behind her, and savored the dampened silence for a moment. She set her hammer down on the floor beside her backpack, and lay down across the seat. She could nearly stretch her legs out all the way.

After finding a comfortable position, she closed her eyes, intent on getting some sleep, but the name Negan kept playing in her head. Had it been one of her past aliases from before? Had she known someone unimportant with a name just unique enough to be half-remembered? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force her thoughts to shut up, and relaxed every muscle in her body. She was exhausted, and everything hurt.

Suddenly, she snapped her eyes open. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest. Negan. The coffee shop. Jason. She sat bolt upright, scrambled her things together, and jumped out of the truck. It had to be him. It had to.

She ran down the highway faster than her legs had ever taken her. Negan was this way, as Vicky had said, but she had no idea what to look for. The way Vicky and Troy had made it sound, it would be a big group of people, most likely holed up in a building somewhere, but all she could see were trees. She could barely even see the road in front of her anymore, and the emerging stars were nowhere near enough light to guide her.

She slowed to a stop and doubled over, wheezing to catch her breath. She looked up and down the empty highway, then straightened back up, inhaled a deep breath, and screamed as loudly as she could, "HELLOOOOO!" She listened to the echo of her voice, but there was nothing else. Only silence. "NEGAN!" she tried. Still nothing. If the so-called Saviors were around and looking for people, they were sure to hear her eventually. She took off running again. A pair of growlers emerged from the trees, but she didn't slow. She raised her hammer and swung hard as she passed them. They both went down.

Then, up ahead through the trees, there was a light, and it was moving. She ran towards it. The light turned into a set of headlights as it came around the bend in her direction. She charged forward.

The car in question stopped right in front of her, and out stepped a man with a cowboy mustache, gun raised. Two more cars pulled up, and their drivers got out slowly.

"Stop right there!" the man with the mustache barked. Marion threw her hands into the air. "Drop it!"

"I need your help!" she protested.

"I said drop it!" he repeated. Marion dropped the hammer with a loud clang.

"I'm looking for Negan," she blurted out as fast as her mouth would let her speak. "Do you know where I can find him?"

The man exchanged a look with one of the other drivers.

"And who the hell might you be?" he asked.

"My name is Ava Morris," she said without thinking. "I need to see Negan." She didn't bother correcting herself. If she was wrong, if this had nothing to do with Jason, she'd regret using her real name. Irrational as it was, it felt like her only protection from the living.

"You from Hilltop?" the man asked.

"What? No, I'm from Richmond," Marion said. "Please, I need to see him."

The man kept his gun trained on her and pulled a walkie talkie from his belt.

"Boss," he said into it.

"What," came the terse reply from the other side. It was him.  _It was him_. She felt herself growing dizzy, but forced herself to keep her composure.

"You know an Ava Morris?" the man said into the walkie.

"No," the voice replied. "Should I?"

"She's askin' for you."

"One of Rick's?"

"Nah, never seen her." He eyed Marion suspiciously.

"Well, if she is not a known enemy, it would be impolite not to oblige, don't you think?"

"Roger."

The man tossed the walkie back into his car and holstered his gun.

"Turn around," he commanded, pulling a ziptie from his belt. Marion did as she was told. She would do whatever it took to find the owner of that voice, but something about it was off. It  _sounded_ like Jason, but it didn't speak like him. Not as far as she could remember. This voice sounded like an asshole, and Jason was one of the kindest people she'd ever known. But maybe he'd changed as much as she had. She had to be sure.

The man pulled the bag from her back and handed it to one of the others, then grabbed her wrists and secured them behind her with the ziptie. He led her to the car, but before she was pushed inside, a sack was thrown over her head and all she could see was darkness.


	9. Heat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: There will be dirty things! P.S. This was my first time writing smut, so I apologize in advance lsjflahskjdlak

They'd found some random person running down the highway screaming his name. He thought at first that it was someone out for blood who would stop at nothing to get their hands around his throat. But according to Simon, she seemed more desperate than vengeful. He picked up Lucille as he left his room. He suspected he wouldn't need her, but intimidation was just so much fun.

As he walked down the hallway, closer and closer to the room where she was being held, something in his gut was turning over. His chest felt heavy and he could feel his muscles twitching. He hadn't felt anxious in years, but something about this situation made him ill. He swallowed, gritting his teeth, but his throat was dry. Maybe he should have known the name Ava Morris. Maybe she was one of Rick's most formidable and her phenomenal acting skills had Simon fooled. But she hadn't been familiar to any of the men who brought her in.

Upon entering the room, Negan found the captive in a chair with her hands behind her back and a sack over her head, Simon and two others standing behind her. The concrete floor, high ceiling, and sheet metal walls made it twenty degrees colder than the hallway, and the lack of any kind of furniture other than the chair made the sound of his boots hitting the floor echo softly around them. He stopped halfway across the room and held Lucille like a cane as he took in the image before him.

"My sincerest apologies," he said finally. "My men seem to think you're comfortable like that." He glared at Simon, who, in response, held up the spikiest looking sledgehammer he'd ever seen. Negan whistled in amazement. "You could take someone's eye out with that thing! Maybe they had the right idea after all."

He started walking slowly towards her, trying to get a read on her body language since she was keeping quiet. She looked tense, shaking the slightest bit, and he could hear unsteady breaths.

"What made you come lookin' for me, carrying a thing like that?" Negan asked, stopping just in front of her. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Tell the others to get out," she choked. The voice had a certain ring to it that he'd almost forgotten. But it couldn't be… He leaned over, closer to her.

"What did you say?" he said steadily.

"Tell the others to get out," she repeated. He glared at her. Who was this person that dared remind him so much of such a distant, painful part of his life?

"You heard the lady," he said, straightening up but keeping his eyes on the captive.

"You sure, boss?" Simon asked hesitantly. Negan turned his glare on him.

"Get out," he said slowly. Without another word, the three of them left, pulling the door shut behind them.

"Who are you?" Negan said, looking back down at the stranger.

There was another shaky breath, then she whispered, "Jason."

No. How could she possibly know that name? He wanted to rip the bag from her head and look at her face, but something stopped him. He was afraid it was all in his head. That it wasn't actually her. That he'd see someone he'd never met before in his life and it would just be another disappointment. Of all the possible ways he could have found her, this had to be the least likely. Just walking up to his front door and ringing the bell.

"How did you know where I was?" he asked. He needed to be absolutely sure this wasn't some trick.

"People are afraid of you," she replied softly. "I just went where they told me not to."

"Why?"

"Your name," she said. "Negan. You stole it from me." There was the slightest hint of humor in her voice, though she spoke flatly.

He just stared at her. His doubt was slowly beginning to slip away.

"Let me see you," she whispered. He couldn't wait any longer. Carefully, he grabbed hold of the bag and pulled it from her head.

There she was, staring back at him with those same eyes he could never forget, though the circles beneath them were darker and more pronounced, and her cheeks had the slightest hollowness to them that suggested she hadn't eaten in days. But she was still as beautiful as ever, and the pounding in his chest had dulled to a steady thump.

Marion smiled up at him as her eyes filled with tears. She laughed once. Or maybe it was a sob. Negan dropped Lucille with a dull thud as he moved slowly to cut her wrists free. Time had slowed and he felt like he was floating through something thick.

When her plastic bindings had been cut, Marion stood slowly, rubbing her wrists, and turned to look at him. He gently placed his hands on either side of her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks and wiping away a tear that came loose. Gingerly, he pushed her hair aside. He still couldn't believe she was real. Her hands entwined themselves in his shirt at his chest and pulled him closer. His fingertips curled in her hair and held her tighter as he fought back his own tears. She pushed herself up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She was warm. She let go of his shirt and wrapped her arms around his neck as her lips parted and she kissed him deeper. The whole world could implode around them at that moment and he wouldn't even notice. He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she broke away just long enough to bury her face against his shoulder. She was holding him so tightly he almost couldn't breath, but he didn't care. The feel of her against him, real flesh and bone, not just another dream, made him dizzy.

He couldn't bring himself to let her go. Not for a long time. They just stood like that for awhile, neither releasing their grip on the other. He felt her shake a few times. She was crying quietly into his shoulder. He kissed the side of her head. The smell of roses was gone. She smelled like dust and sweat. Like a human. He realized everything she'd been missing out on. The compound, the electricity, the running water, and felt a shot of guilt burst through him at the thought of her out there on her own while he was living like a king. He'd tried for years to find her, but his desperation had gotten out of hand and turned into lust for power and control, and he hadn't been fully aware of it until this moment.

"Marion," he said softly as he pulled back a little to look down at her. Her eyes were red from crying, but she looked happy. "It's not safe for you to be here."

"I'm not leaving you again," she said quizzically.

"'Course not," Negan replied. "But those people out there, the ones who claim to be afraid of me, they ain't good people, and we're in the middle of somethin' bad. If they ever found out about you, they'd hurt you just to hurt me."

"So they won't find out," she said easily.

"No one can. You're just another newbie who's agreed to work for protection and shelter."

"Of course," she breathed. "It looks like you've built something huge here. I wasn't expecting to just sit around all day."

"I'll find you something that keeps you inside," he replied. "You'll be safe in here."

"Okay," she said, nodding and fighting back more tears. "I'm so tired. I don't ever wanna go outside again."

"You can go wherever you want," he said.

"The car I was brought here in," she said. "The engine didn't sound too good. I can fix it."

"Rest first," he replied. "You don't need to get to work right away."

"No, I do," she protested. "I need to do something. I need the distraction."

"Tomorrow," he said, touching her face again. "I promise. You need to sleep or you'll keel over. Then you can fix all the cars you want. We could use a mechanic who knows what they're doin'."

"Okay," she replied. "I can do that."

* * *

He'd wanted desperately to bring her back to his room and let her sleep in his bed beside him, but instead had Simon escort her to her own room to avoid raising any kind of suspicion. They'd decided she'd go by Marion under the pretense that it was her middle name and she hated her first name, Ava. It would just be easier to explain it now instead of it slipping out by accident later and having to come up with some excuse, insignificant as the issue was. He didn't want to call her Ava, anyway. It didn't feel real enough, and he needed every indication possible that this was, in fact, really happening.

He slept heavily through the night. The thought that Marion was safe only a few doors down the hall eased the tension that had been building up since this war with Rick started. He wasn't worried about them hurting her. He wouldn't let it happen, no matter what. All this time, he'd refused to die before he found her, and it had worked. And now he'd refuse to let her die.

He woke up just past sunrise to find himself wide awake and motivated to get back to work. After he showered, brushed his teeth, and changed into some clean clothes, he made his way down the hall to check on Marion. He knocked on the door and waited a moment before Dwight came around the corner.

"Oh, she's out in the lot," Dwight said as he approached. "Simon says she's the new mechanic. Took her out there 'bout an hour ago. Nice girl."

"I told her to sleep," Negan said. "'Nother stubborn one, just like you, huh?" He clapped Dwight on the shoulder and started down the hall towards the exit to the lot. Dwight followed close behind him.

"How do you know we can trust her?" he asked, keeping his voice just above a whisper. "She coulda been sent by Rick."

"Her story checks out," Negan replied, careful not to get too defensive. "Besides, she's alone. What's she gonna do?"

"I don't know, man, I'm just sayin' we can't trust _anyone,"_ Dwight said.

"You're right," Negan replied. "But we also can't drive cars that don't work, can we?"

"We have a mechanic."

"And now we have two," Negan countered. "If it eases your troubled little mind at all, I'll take care of her myself if she goes rotten. Deal?"

"Fine," Dwight said.

The two of them exited out into the lot where most of the cars were kept. There was still an early morning chill in the air but the sun warmed their faces. Marion was bent over beneath the hood of an old sedan, and on the other side of her, Sherry was leaning against the car and talking to her.

_Shit._ How was he going to explain his _wives_ to Marion? He hadn't even thought about this little problem until now. But it looked like a pleasant conversation, and Marion didn't seem to want to hit her with a wrench.

"Good morning," Sherry said when she noticed them approaching. Marion looked up from under the hood. She was smiling.

"Mornin', ladies," Negan said breezily. There was a tense moment of awkwardness between Dwight and Sherry. They didn't even want to look each other in the eye. Marion seemed to notice but thankfully didn't say anything.

"You're lucky I got here when I did," she said, wiping the grease from her hands. "This thing was barely drivable."

"Well, I'm grateful to ya," Negan replied. "If you two would excuse us, I got a special project I'd like to discuss with Marion." He nodded in the direction of one of the trucks, beckoning Marion to follow him. She gave Sherry a look, to which she responded with a resisted smile, and joined him as they walked across the lot.

"Thank you for not asking me to join your harem," Marion said, much to his surprise. She didn't sound bitter.

"Sherry tell you?" he ventured.

"She asked if you offered," Marion replied.

"I'm done with that," he said. "I shoulda told you."

"I'm not an idiot, I know you had needs," she said. "Besides, you could do worse. Sherry's really sweet. Seems to like Dwight."

"She's good at first impressions," Negan said.

"You don't like her?"

"It's a messy situation."

"Wouldn't be your first."

"Marion," he said. "It's over. It doesn't matter."

She just looked at him for a moment, considering his words. It looked like she was trying to hold back a smile. "So, do you actually have a special project for me?" she finally asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he replied. "I need this truck armored to hell."

"Bulletproof?" she asked.

"Bulletproof. Bombproof. Waterproof. Whatever you can swing."

She nodded slowly, her eyes scanning the truck in question. It was their armory on wheels and if they were going to take it into battle, he didn't want it easily stolen or destroyed.

"I can probably swing that," she said. "It'll just take awhile if I'm gonna get creative." She flashed him a playful smile. He wanted to reach out and touch her, grab her and kiss her. But all he could do was return the smile and try not to stare too long. Dwight and Sherry had gone back inside, but anyone could be watching at any time. He honestly didn't think it'd be a big deal to tell the Saviors who Marion really was to him, but that would depend on the absolute impossibility of mutiny or escape. He trusted most of his people, though dubiously. This life had made him paranoid and he hated it. But what could he do? If he wanted to keep living like this, it would come with a price.

"When's the last time you even touched a car?" he asked.

"Couple minutes ago," she replied, holding up a grease-stained hand. "This lot's a junkyard. My Disneyland."

"Before today, smart-ass," he teased.

"Okay, so, it's been awhile, but so what? I have an impeccable memory."

"Oh, I certainly hope so. Not gonna climb into a death trap."

"They're already death traps. I have come to save you all." She swept her arms out in a pope-like gesture.

"A thousand thanks, your holiness," Negan replied, bowing.

"You are welcome, my child."

"Negan!" a hurried voice shouted from near the door. They looked over to see Simon leaning halfway out the doorway. "We found our Houdini!"

"Did we, now?" Negan replied. "We better give him a proper welcomin' back, don't you think?" He turned back to Marion. He didn't want her seeing this. "Stay out here and get workin' on that," he said, then turned and followed Simon inside.

* * *

He didn't see Marion again until later that night after he'd eaten his dinner. She'd been outside all day, elbows deep in car parts. If she'd gone inside to eat something at any point, he wasn't aware of it. The girl finally had a comfortable place to call home and all she wanted to do was work. He was on his way back to his room to turn in for the night when she appeared at his side.

"I got a plan for the truck," she said gleefully as they walked together. She didn't seem the least bit exhausted.

"What's that?" he asked.

"It's a surprise," she replied. "But I think you'll like it."

"How long before it's done?"

"It's gonna need a few days," she said. "But it'll be worth the wait."

"Don't overwork yourself," he said, lowering his voice and throwing a sidelong glance around the corner. "I don't want you passing out on me cause you haven't eaten."

"Don't worry, I had a couple snacks," she said. "I'm just happy to be here. I wanna be helpful."

"I'm happy you're here, too," he replied. They stopped at his door and he turned to her. "You have no idea how happy I am. I just want you to be okay."

She smiled. "I am. Fuck, I'm giddy and restless. I love you," she said, dropping her voice to a whisper. "More than anything. And I haven't seen you in, Jesus, _eight years._ I'm not doing anything logical right now." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I'm sorry. We shouldn't be here. Goodnight, Jason." She turned to walk away.

"Night, Marion," he said, and stepped inside his room. As he pushed the door shut behind him, something stopped it. He turned around to see Marion come in, shut and lock the door, and without another word, throw herself at him.

Their lips crashed together as she grabbed his hair in tight fistfuls. He did absolutely nothing to protest. They were locked away, alone in his room, and he'd lost all his inhibitions. He wrapped his arms around her waist tightly as though she might otherwise float away. Her mouth was hot on his as she kissed him desperately. She broke away, but kept her face close as her eyes locked with his. She let go of his hair and placed her palms against the sides of his face, her thumbs caressing his cheeks. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dark. He'd forgotten how much he loved seeing her like this, all her self-control gone in the heat of the moment. He'd never felt this way with any of his wives, never got weak in the knees or felt the urge to grab any of them tight and never let go.

He forced his thoughts out of his mind as he ran his hands slowly down to the hem of her shirt and pulled it off over her head in one swift motion. She pressed her mouth to his again, more gently this time, taking her time and savoring the moment. Her hands grabbed the lapels of his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders. It fell to the floor in a heap beside her shirt. He wanted to feel her skin on his, feel her moving against him. He pulled his shirt off over his head, then bent down to wrap his arms around her hips and hoist her up off the floor. She wrapped her legs around him as he craned his neck up to kiss her. Her hair fell around his face. It smelled like the cheap shampoo they kept in the showers. Vanilla and sugar. It was delicious. Her hands were back in his hair, pulling his head back so she could kiss him harder. Her tongue pushed against his, hot and wet. She made a sound like a desperate gasp and her hands tightened in his hair. _Fuck._

He stepped carefully in his best estimate of whatever direction his bed was in. When he felt the mattress against his knee, he bent forward and dropped Marion on her back. She bounced once with a playful giggle. She liked being manhandled. That much he definitely remembered. They pulled the rest of their clothes off in a clumsy rush. He could see her hands shaking. He crawled forward over her and pressed all his weight against her, pinning her down and grinding against her. She responded with a low groan, moving her hips against him and digging her nails into his shoulder. The sting made him dizzy as he pressed his mouth ravenously to her neck and breathed her in. Her skin was hot and slick with sweat, and she was breathing heavily in his ear, the most deliciously obscene sound he'd heard in years.

When he pushed himself inside of her, she gasped in loud pleasure, and immediately smacked her hand over her mouth, giggling quietly. He couldn't help the smile that escaped him as he moved his mouth up to her ear.

"You better keep it down," he whispered hungrily, grinding his hips against hers and intentionally trying to evoke more of those filthy sounds. "Everyone's gonna hear us."

"How embarrassing," she managed with a low, mischievous laugh between hard and heavy breaths. He kissed her neck and dragged his tongue up to the dip just below her jaw. Her skin was delectably salty from working outside all day and the vanilla scent of her hair made her the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted. He grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled her arms above her head, pinning them down as he pushed his lips against hers again, her tongue pressing back against his in response. They moved against each other, hot and sweaty on the tangled sheets, barely separating their mouths long enough to breathe shallow breaths. They were both so desperate for each other, it didn't take long until Marion was arching against him, her nails digging into his back, which he barely even felt as he was in his own euphoric delirium, every muscle in his body tensing before he went limp, panting into the sheets beside her ear.

They fell asleep not long after that, Marion curled up with her head on his chest, Negan breathing easy and comfortably for the first time in eight years. This would all go away tomorrow when he had to pretend she wasn't everything to him, and she had to act like she was just there to work, but until then this was enough.


End file.
